Switch
by keru.m
Summary: A thieving Ensign, a fresh approach, some barking, and a heart to heart.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own'em

**A/N: **I'd written this for the May ficathon challenge over on HBX, but hadn't posted it here yet so I thought I ought to since I haven't contributed anything in far too long, in my estimation. I do, however, have a good excuse: I've been working on a sequel to 'Conversations'. The sequel is incredibly long, and still not near done so I don't when I'll be able to deliver. I feel like I've spent half my life on it ... and frankly, am not even sure I like how it's turning out. In any case, at the rate I'm going who knows when it'll be finished.

About the following story: the ficathon challenge was to incorporate lines from another TV show into a JAG fic. This takes place after JAGathon. I'll admit to being in a pretty silly mood when I wrote it, so just have fun with this.

**Challenge lines:**  
_Laura:_ I've had all I can take on this assignment. I've been pinched, pawed, clawed, manhandled … (suddenly notices partner) What happened to you?  
_Steele: _Merely a brush with death.  
From Remington Steele; 'Coffee, Tea, or Steele'.

--

Mac entered Harm's office without announcing herself, and sat down heavily in the chair in front of his desk.

"You know what, Harm?"

He looked up from his work, eyebrow raised.

She was staring out the window, her attention fixed somewhere above his shoulder.

"What?" He asked, prompting her after a few moments of silence.

"I'm going to turn a new leaf." She said this in her patented no-nonsense tone, the one that told him she'd made a sudden decision she didn't want him to question.

"A new leaf?" He frowned, unsure whether he should be supportive, or put the brakes on this. He knew that tone. Mac wasn't one to be spontaneous, but on those occasions when she did take it upon herself to do something impulsive, he never knew whether to take cover or hold on for the ride.

"I've realized that in the last few months, maybe even years, I've become …" She was now searching his ceiling for the right word. "… Boring."

"Boring?" Where was this coming from, he wondered. He didn't think he'd ever used 'Mac' and 'boring' in the same thought, let along the same sentence.

"Boring." She confirmed, "Stuck in my ways." She looked at him for a moment, and declared, "We're going to switch roles."

"Switch roles?" He had no idea what she was saying. But then, she'd always had a knack for confusing him.

"Are you going to be my echo all day?" She grinned at him. "Yes. Switch roles. For the assignment the admiral handed us this morning – the Ensign suspected of stealing Navy equipment – I play you, you play me."

"Mac…" He couldn't tell if she was being serious, or trying to make a point about something relating to their working partnership. Although he couldn't imagine what she could be trying to make a point about. They'd been getting along better than they had in years, well, better than they had since he'd left to fly and Brumby had become a thorn in everyone's side. Mostly his side.

"Think of it." She laid out her case. "You're always the one who has fun on these investigations. I play the responsible one, follow the rules and cover your six while you single-mindedly throw caution to the wind and do your thing. We've been partners so long, we've gotten stuck in these roles. It's like a bad stereotype in an even worse movie." She paused for a breath. "So we're going to switch roles."

"Wait." He latched on to the only part of her statement that he'd grasped, in the absence of the slightest clue as to where all this was coming from. "Are you saying I'm not responsible?"

"You're missing the point, Harm." She patiently informed him.

"I think your point is more like a Mobius strip, Mac."

"Come on." She stood up suddenly with renewed purpose. "We have to hit the road if we want to interview Ensign Eames at the Naval Air Facility before lunch."

Harm opened his mouth to respond, but she was already halfway out his door. He was having a very hard time keeping up with her today.

"So you play me, and I play you. Okay?" She threw over her shoulder as she entered the bullpen, and didn't give him the time to answer. "I'll meet you by the elevators in five minutes."

Harm watched her walk away, thoroughly baffled. What the hell just happened?

--

Exactly five minutes later – Harm checked his watch – he was waiting patiently by the elevators. Forty-eight second after that, Mac breezed by him and pressed the down button.

"You're forty-eight seconds late," Harm told her, smug grin in place. He showed her his watch to prove his point.

"Fifty-two, actually." She glanced at him as she walked into the elevator, and shrugged as though she were blameless. "I'm you, remember? You're never on time."

He followed her in, eyebrow raised. So that's how she wanted to play it.

--

Once in the JAG parking lot, they headed towards their cars. As usual, they had parked beside each other.

"I'll drive." They both said at the same time. Mac turned to look at Harm, the challenge already brewing in her eyes.

"What?" He shrugged, and dangled his keys in front of him. "I'm playing you."

She gave him her other patented look, the one that told him she had his number. Then she walked over to the passenger side and took a seat.

He sat behind the wheel, grinning as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life. This could be fun.

--

"So, Mac – or should I call you Harm?" He paused, and waited for her to roll her eyes before continuing. "Where are we going?"

"I wouldn't have asked you that." She told him. It sounded like an accusation. "Get into character, Harm."

"Maybe you should ask me such things more often." He couldn't help but find humour in how seriously she was taking this role reversal mumbo-jumbo. And he still had no idea what she was thinking or where this was coming from. "I think you should take more direction from me. It could only be a good thing."

She snorted eloquently. "In your dreams."

He grinned, remembering how she'd said those same words to him once before.

"You don't want to be in my dreams." He repeated his words and glanced at her, waiting for the red light she was going to throw his way.

"Why not?" She replied. "It's only fair since you feature prominently in mine."

He almost drove his car off the road.

"Mac!" He couldn't believe she'd just said that to him. His shock was almost immediately replaced with something much warmer. Maybe Mac had finally hit the end of the cul-de-sac she'd escaped into when Brumby had left and Renee and commandeered his attention.

"What?" She said, her expression pure innocence. "I'm staying in character."

His hesitant optimism was crushed by indignation. Maybe he should've just opted to take cover in the face of her outburst of spontaneity.

"I would not say that!" He protested.

"Alright fine. Do over." She cleared her throat dramatically, and faked a deep male voice that sounded mildly flirtatious. "What kinds of dreams are we talking about? Anything you want to share?"

"I would not say that, either. I don't say things like that." He infused a healthy dose of affront in his reply. "And I don't sound like that."

"Please." She dismissed his objections, enjoying herself thoroughly. "You throw those kinds of one-liners out all the time."

That was just insulting. He said the only comeback that came to mind.

"Red light."

"Now you're getting the hang of it." She looked very pleased.

He laughed, and watched her from the corner of his eye. He'd missed this side of her. Whatever the reason for its return, he was just glad she'd come back to him. Following their horrible encounter on the Guadalcanal, and then what she'd overheard him tell Sturgis about the men she'd been involved with, he'd severely doubted that she'd ever even talk to him as more than a colleague or casual friend. He was definitely going to hang on for the ride, and see where it led him.

"Okay." He tried to get into character. "According to the report, Eames is a self-professed computer geek. He joined the ROTC to pay his way through school. He doesn't plan on staying in once his service obligation is up. Electrical and computer equipment have been going missing from his duty station. His CO suspects him, but can't prove it."

"That's where we come in." She declared with exaggerated bravado.

He gave her a disproving glance. "I don't talk like that either."

"First order of business: we interview Eames." She said, ignoring his comment. "I'll play the sympathetic fellow officer who gains his trust, and you play the unforgiving, no-nonsense adversary."

He didn't know whether to laugh at the way she put it, or be appalled that she would put it like that. She could have a point, though: they did tend to fall into the same roles.

"That's not how it always is." He objected, wondering what she really thought of their working partnership, and of him.

"Sure it is, Harm. Most of the time." She put a placating hand on his arm. "But that's why we're switching roles; shaking things up a bit." With a final pat to his arm, she turned her attention out the window.

They sat in companionable silence as Harm drove through DC, towards the Naval Air Facility. He realized, after a few moments that she was staring at him. He glanced at her, and found her watching him with an expression of studious concentration.

"What?" He asked, feeling oddly nervous.

"I'm trying to think like you." Her frown deepened as she squinted up at him.

"Don't hurt yourself." He cautioned, grinning. This was definitely fun.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, it is hard to slow my brain down to your pace."

"Hey. Watch it, Marine."

"Eames' coworkers were interviewed by their CO, right?" She said, turning the conversation back to the case.

He nodded.

"And they all said that he goes off-site for lunch, everyday, on foot."

He nodded again. "What are you thinking?"

"Where is he going?"

Harm gave her question some thought.

"Maybe he has friends working in the area?"

"He has a reputation as a loner." She pointed out, and then cocked her head to the side."It's lunch time now. Maybe we should follow him."

"Follow him?" Harm was sceptical.

"C'mon. That's exactly the kind of idea you would come up."

"Well, it is an ingenious proposition." He could acknowledge brilliance when he saw it.

"Stay in character, Harm." She told him, shaking her head in amusement."I'm supposed to be the arrogant one today."

They shared a glance, breaking into a soft laughter. Moments later, Harm turned onto the street leading towards the NAF.

"Good. We're here." She suddenly grabbed his arm. "Hey, wait. Isn't that Eames?"

"What?" He looked out the window, following the direction of her pointed finger. The objection on his lips was automatic. "Mac. This place is milling with personnel. What're the chances we see …" He trailed off frowning. That did look like the photo of Eames that was in his service records. He was walking away from the NAF, and towards one of the seedier parts of town.

"Well, I'll be..." Harm could only stare.

"Hey, maybe your luck is rubbing off on me." She told him, grinning.

Harm quickly scanned the road for the nearest parking lot when Mac spoke again, her eyes fixed on Eames as he walked down the sidewalk.

"Park the car," She instructed him. "We'll follow him on foot." She took the words right out of his mouth. Although he didn't think he was that bossy

Once the car was parked, they both got out. Lucky for them, Eames didn't seem to notice that he was being followed. The Ensign kept walking until he turned right onto a shady looking street. He walked towards the doorway of an old, abandoned warehouse.

Harm and Mac stood back, watching as Eames threw a cursory glance over his shoulder, and then took a key out of his pocket. He turned the key in the padlock that held the doors shut, slid open the doors and entered the building.

"That was unexpected." Mac observed, her eyes still fixed on the door through which Ensign Eames had disappeared.

"So, I guess we wait." Harm said.

"He should be heading back soon," Mac agreed. "I saw a coffee shop just up the street, less than a block down. We should get a clear view of him when he leaves."

"After you, Marine." Harm waved her forward with a hand.

"After you, Navy." Mac mirrored his motion, offering him a pert look. "I'm you; you're me. Remember?"

He graciously relented with a smile. Her behaviour today was as funny as it was curious.

"You're lucky you know," He told her as he headed towards the café, looking at her over his shoulder. "People would give up a lot for a chance to be me for a day."

"You're stepping out of character again, Harm." She warned. "Stick to the script."

He chuckled at her tone.

"I'll get the coffee, you get us a table near the window." He stated once they entered the café. As soon as the sentence was out, he gave her a sheepish look – it was hard not to act like himself, for god's sake.

She shook her head in amusement, and went in search of a table.

A few minutes later, he reached their table with coffee in hand. Mac was just ending a cell phone call.

He nodded towards the phone, wondering whom she'd been speaking with.

"That was Bud," She replied. "The warehouse hasn't been occupied in the last seven years. It doesn't pass safety standards. The cops raided it about six months ago to clear out squatters. The city is slated to destroy it, but you know how long such things can take."

He nodded, handing her a cup of coffee.

"No sign of Eames?" He asked, taking a seat opposite her.

"None."

"Didn't the thefts start about half a year ago?" He looked at her, and she met his gaze.

"Five months."

"Fits the timeline." He suggested.

"It does." She nodded, before her eyes darted to the street.

"There he is," she said. They watched Eames walk by the coffee shop's front window. "He's heading back to work. That was quick."

"You want to go question him?" Harm asked, turning to look at Mac. To his surprise, she was already halfway out the café.

"Mac," He called out, and hurried to follow her. He'd just caught up to her when he realized that she was heading the wrong way. "Mac. Eames went the other way."

"I know. We're going back to the warehouse." She turned the corner leading to the warehouse entrance, and only came to a stop when she was standing in front of the locked doors.

"What are we going to do here?" He watched her, hands on his hips, as she examined the padlock and chain that secured the doors.

"We're going to find out why Eames spends his lunch break in an abandoned warehouse." She reached into her hair and pulled out two bobby pins from under her cover.

"You're going to break in there? With bobby pins?" He pointed towards the padlock she was trying to open with her hair pins, her expression one of intense concentration. He couldn't have hidden his amusement even if he wanted to.

"We're not breaking in." She answered absently, intent on her task. "This is an abandoned warehouse."

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd play me." He commented, amazed. "Although I would've climbed through a broken window. Where'd you learn to pick locks?"

He watched as she bit her lower lip in concentration.

"Misspent youth." She said, and seemed to be holding her breath as she manoeuvred the bobby pins in the lock. He wondered if she'd ever tell him the full story behind that vague answer.

"There!" She cried triumphantly. She undid the padlock, and slid the door open carefully.

"Now what's the plan?" He looked over her head, searching the inside of the warehouse. Any immediate indication of what could be inside was obscured by stacks of cartons and poor lighting.

"Plans are your job today, remember." She whispered as she peeked into the darkness. "You wouldn't happen to have a flashlight, would you?"

"Sorry," He quipped. "Left it in my other uniform."

She was about to slip into the warehouse, when he grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going inside. You saw him walk out. He's hiding something in here."

"You can't just walk in there." She was nuts, he decided. "Who knows what – or who – is in there."

"We'll never know if we don't go in." She countered.

"Mac."

"What would you do?" She asked pointedly.

He hesitated, before reluctantly admitting the truth. "I'd go in."

"Then let's go." Vindicated, she turned to enter the building.

"It's a risk, Mac." He warned, not letting go of her arm. The last thing he wanted was for her to get caught up in this role switching fixation of hers and compromise her safety. Admittedly, he still had no idea where that particular idea of hers had come from.

"Don't worry so much, Harm." She told him with a cockiness he hadn't seen in a long time. She then broke into a full-fledged grin, looking very much the proverbial kid in a candy store. "This role reversal thing is fun."

He shook his head, laughing lightly. He definitely hadn't seen her like this in a long time – since before her almost-wedding, in fact. If following her blindly into a dilapidated building that housed god knows what was what she wanted to do...

"Alright. Call it." He gave in.

"You go left, I go right…" She trailed off suddenly, and frowned. "Did you hear that?" She whispered.

"Hear what?" He frowned in concentration. It sounded like a low whine. No, more like a number of low whines. "What the hell is that?"

"Sounds like … dogs?" She looked up at him to confirm.

He nodded, his eyes holding hers. It sounded like a lot of dogs.

"Coming from in there?" He tilted his chin towards the warehouse door.

She nodded slowly as she turned and carefully entered the building. He followed suit.

To his surprise, behind the cardboard boxes that obscured the entryway, the warehouse was pretty well lit by the sunlight entering through various broken windows and holes in the roof. To his even greater surprise, the middle of the warehouse was lined with cages upon cages, filled with dogs. Just behind the cages was a desk made of a slab of wood propped on empty crates. To the left of the cages was a set of stairs. The stairs led to a suspended walkway that was located about twelve feet above the ground, and that circled the entire warehouse. There was no one else in the warehouse.

"Dogs?" He muttered. "Do you think Eames is into dog fighting?" He headed towards the makeshift desk.

Mac headed towards the cages and peered in.

"I don't think so. They could be strays, but don't seem vicious or starved." She shifted her attention from the dogs to the cages. "Did you take a look at the cage doors? There's some kind of mechanism attached to them."

Harm was busy examining at the papers strewn on the desk.

"Take a look at this." He pointed to a sheaf of papers. "He's been keeping pretty good records of the dogs' histories – vaccinations, treatments..." He paused as he leafed through the documents.

"He just left the papers in plain view like that?"

Harm gave Mac a sidelong grin. "He probably hadn't expected anyone to break into his warehouse."

"It wasn't breaking in." She defended, as she made her way to the desk. "And it's not his warehouse."

She stopped when she was standing next to him.

"He's buying a lot of dog food." She nodded towards the cardboard boxes full of food pellets, stacked a few feet from her. "Looks like he's taking care of the dogs."

"And putting them up for adoption." Harm pointed to some more sheets of paper.

"He's running his own dog shelter?" Mac asked, picking up another heavy file folder from the desk, and perusing the contents.

"This is what he's stealing and selling Naval equipment for?" Harm looked at the rows of dog cages. "Why didn't he just volunteer at a local shelter?"

"No idea." Mac shook her head, perplexed. "Maybe he's forging their pedigrees and selling them. Or maybe he's an animal lover. We should find and search his computers—"

A loud clanging came from the entrance, cutting Mac off. The two of them quickly crouched behind the desk.

Mac glanced around the table.

"That's Eames. He's back." She whispered to Harm.

"And probably wondering who picked his lock." He grinned at Mac, feeling very smug. "We should've climbed through a broken window, like I would've done."

She glared at him, but her attention was quickly diverted to the sound of nearing footsteps. Harm held his breath, hoping Eames wasn't armed.

To his dismay, Eames came around the desk and stopped suddenly when he caught sight of Harm and Mac. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He stared at them, while they stared back, none of them moving. Then Eames made a run for it.

"You get the door," Mac yelled, as she slid over the desk and chased after Eames. "I'll get Eames!"

Harm made a beeline for the door, aiming to block what he hoped was the only exit.

Mac managed to cut Eames off, forcing him to run around the cages to get to the door and thereby buying Harm time. They had effectively cornered him, Harm stood between him and door, Mac behind him. Eames skidded to a stop, looking from Harm to Mac and back.

Harm was about to try and talk Eames into turning himself in, when the Ensign reached into his pocket and pulled out a remote control. Harm's eyes widened. It looked like a detonator...

Suddenly, Eames took one step back, and made a dash for the metal stairs that led to the elevated walkway, located behind. Just as Harm and Mac both started to chase after Eames, he pressed a button on the remote control he was holding.

Time stopped, everything moved in slow motion for Harm.

"Bomb!" Harm yelled. He lunged towards Mac and pushed her to the ground, covering her with his body. He covered his head with his arms and tried to conceal as much of Mac as he could under him. Eyes squeezed shut tight, he waited for the explosion.

Nothing happened.

Harm opened one eye and glanced around the room.

Still nothing.

He opened his other eye. What the hell. If Eames hadn't pressed the button on a remote detonator, then what the hell did that button do?

"Harm!" Mac's muffled protest came from beneath him.

Harm looked down. He was still completely covering Mac. She pushed him off of her and scrambled to stand up.

"He went up those stairs!" She told him, already running towards the stairs. "Get animal control here, I'm going after Eames!"

"Mac! Wait!" Harm was scrambling to go after her, when he heard a series of clanging noises. He stopped in mid-movement.

What the hell was that.

The clanging noises were followed by barks, yips, panting, and what could only be described as a quiet stampede. Harm looked at the cages that housed the dogs, and realized that they were unlocked. The remote control in Eames had not been a detonator, but a remote unlocking mechanism for the cages. The dogs, it seemed, had also just realized that they were free, and were now hurrying to escape.

This was not good.

Harm dug out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial for Bud.

"Bud! Get animal control to the warehouse Mac called you about. Now!"

Dozens of dogs began racing towards the exit, some of them circling Harm and bumping into his legs in the process. He flipped his phone shut. Now what.

"Stop!" Harm ordered the dogs, not knowing what else to do. They didn't heed.

"Sit!" He commanded, trying again. The dogs still didn't listen.

Harm swore as the dogs continued to careen towards the doors. All hell would break lose if that hoard of canines made it to the main street. Harm rushed towards the warehouse door, which was still slightly open. Maybe he could shut it before any more escaped.

Harm ran with the pack of dogs towards the exit. The sound of barking was loud and incredibly irritating. He reached the door, grasped the handle, and put all his effort into sliding the door shut as quickly as he could. It seemed some of the dogs realized that he was about to close off their only exit, and began barking even more loudly, pawing at him and grabbing his pant legs between their teeth. Harm hoped they didn't bite, although from the sharp sting on his ankle he was pretty sure at least one had gotten in a few nips.

With some effort, Harm managed to slide the door shut. The dogs kept pawing at the door, though the barking had abated somewhat, in favour of whining. Some dogs began seeking alternate exits, sniffing at the floor and running amuck.

Harm leaned heavily against the door, trying to catch his breath. This had to go down his list of top ten most annoying things to happen on a case. He eyed the dogs, wondering if he should try to get them back in their cages.

"Shoo." Harmed tried to wave to away a dog that he suspected was getting overly enamoured with his leg. "Get back."

Above the din of barking, he heard Mac call his name. He searched the warehouse floor, but saw no sign of her.

"Where are you, Mac?" He called out loudly. He pushed himself off the door, and set out in search of her.

"I swear, I've had all I can take on this assignment." He muttered to himself as one dog ran into him, another followed him, licking his shoes and a third kept tugging on his pant leg. This role reversal thing sucked. "I've been pinched, pawed, clawed, manhandled..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of a pair of legs dangling in the air, to his left. He looked and saw Mac hanging from the railing of the suspended walkway, twelve feet above the ground.

"Mac!" He rushed towards the stairs as fast as his legs could take him. He took the steps three at a time, and sprinted along the length of the walkway. When he neared her, he slid to his knees, and tried to get some footing so he could pull her up.

"Just hold on! What happened to you?"

"Oh, don't mind me," She grunted, obviously concentrating on not letting her grip slip, "Merely a brush with death..."

He would've laughed if he wasn't so worried about her falling.

"I am not that melodramatic," Harm informed her as he grabbed her forearms.

She looked up at him, and broke into an impish grin. "Permission to come aboard?"

This time he did laugh.

"Cute." He hauled her back onto the walkway.

He held her by her shoulders, looking her over for any sign of injury.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine, thanks." She let out a deep breath, and pointed a finger down towards the ground. "I tackled Eames."

Harm leaned over to take a look. Sprawled over the squished cardboard boxes below them, partially covered in dry dog food, surrounded by feasting canines, and groaning in a dazed pain lay Ensign Eames.

"I'll say you did," He replied, glancing at her. Poor guy. She really did a number on him.

"Is he okay?" She asked, brushing the dust off her clothes.

"Well, the Kibble softened his fall." He reached over to pick some dirt out of a lock of her hair. She looked up at him, thanking him with a smile.

"C'mon, Tiger. Let's go take care of Eames." He stood up, and offered her a hand. "Hopefully Animal Control will be here soon."

She took his hand with her left one, and he pulled her up. He noticed that she stood up rather stiffly, and avoided moving her right arm.

"You realize I just saved your six. Again." He goaded her, grinning widely. "Now who was out of character."

"Actually, I think that was just perfectly in character for both of us." She gave him a pointed look. "I'm the one who always saves your six, Flyboy."

Before he could respond, the door to the warehouse burst open.

"The cavalry has arrived." He let go of her hand, and they headed down towards the dog-catchers, who were busy herding the dogs.

"Tomorrow, we'll find a way to throw the book at Eames." Harm said as they descended the stairs, admittedly still annoyed that he'd been caught in the middle of a pack of stampeding dogs. He'd just picked his uniform pants fresh from the dry cleaners yesterday, too. "Who steals from the Navy to start a dog kennel, anyways?"

"C'mon, Harm. He was helping the more vulnerable members of our society. I could convince any jury—"

He didn't give her a chance to finish that sentence.

"Are you making fun of me, Marine?"

"I'm just staying in character." She teased, laughing.

"Staying in character." He scoffed playfully. "I would've executed that," He pointed towards the incapacitated Eames whom they were now approaching, "with a lot more finesse, that's for sure. Not by dangling twelve feet above the ground."

"Right. You handled those dogs with great finesse."

"Don't remind me." He grimaced. "I hope Eames treated them for fleas."

She laughed, adding, "And the bomb scare. That was really smooth."

He didn't even dignify that with a response – it had looked like a detonator to him.

"This has to be the strangest case ever." She said, as they stood over Eames, who was still too dazed to get up. A mangy looking dog was licking his face.

Harm heartily agreed. He noticed that she was rubbing her right shoulder.

"Shoulder hurt?" He asked.

"A little." She answered, then redirected. "Did any of the dogs bite you?"

"Nah. Just a few scratches. Superficial stuff." He shrugged.

She looked at him, slightly worried.

"Are your tetanus shots up to date? We should get you checked out once we're done here."

"Mac. I'm fine." He patiently submitted himself to her concern.

"We'll stop by the doctor's." She paused, and then brightened. "And then, after that, how about dinner? My treat."

He looked at her, grin in place, eyebrow raised.

"That's you playing me again, right?"

"You are getting the hang of this." She laughed, teasing him. "But don't worry, you can be you again when it comes time to pay for dinner."

He joined in her laughter. "We'll see."

--

Harm shut the freezer door and turned towards Mac. She was seated across from him on the barstools in front of his kitchen counter. He held an ice pack in one hand, two empty goblets in the other and a bottle of his best spring water was tucked under his arm.

"Here," He handed her the ice pack and busied himself pouring water into the goblets.

"Thanks." She set the ice pack on the counter so that she could fill their plates with the Chinese take-out they'd picked up.

"You want to try the some of the chicken?" She asked, a spoonful of chicken poised above his plate.

"Sure." He slid the glasses of water across the counter, and walked around the counter to take a seat next to her.

"So, what fine draft of water are you serving today?" She asked, placing his plate in front of him. He watched as she gingerly held the ice pack on her right shoulder with one hand, the other reached for her goblet of water.

He put on his most pedantic tone.

"Today's sampling comes straight from the vast purity of Iceland's untouched terrain of glaciers and mountain springs." He swirled the water in the glass, and delicately sniffed the contents.

Mac grinned at the show he was putting on. She took a slight slip, and pretended to appraise the drink.

"Mm." She finally said with a sparkle in her eyes. "Has a slightly minty aftertaste. Tastes just like a trip to the glaciers."

He laughed, and clinked his glass to hers.

"So," he asked as they tucked into their dinner. "Is the character exchange experiment over now?"

She nodded, wearing a slight smile.

"It was fun, though, wasn't it?" She turned slightly on her stool to face him.

"You pulled your shoulder and I had to get a rabies shot." He pointed out. "How is that fun?"

"Well, we did catch the Robin Hood of the canine world."

"So now we're playing the Sherriff of Nottingham?"

She laughed softly at his retort, but soon turned pensive.

"I haven't picked a lock since ..." She paused, and he watched as she went through the timeline in her head. "Well, since I joined the Marines. And I haven't tackled a guy like that since I was transferred to JAG."

"Really? This tackling ... are we talking about only in a professional capacity?" He couldn't help himself.

"Right." She sighed, quirking an eyebrow at him, "The role reversal is definitely over. See I told you: you always come out with those one-liners."

He gave her a full-blown grin. She could pretend to be exasperated, but he knew she got a kick out of his witticisms.

"Alright fine. Do over." He cleared his throat dramatically and spoke in a low, mildly flirtatious voice just as she'd done earlier in the day, "And I haven't tackled a girl like that since..." He trailed off as she raised one questioning eyebrow.

"Since?" She prodded, visibly amused by his sudden hesitation.

"Red light." He said trying to keep a straight face, but one look at her had him laughing too.

They turned their attentions back to dinner, their laughter slowly petering out.

"I think I'll play the reckless one more often," Mac said as she picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. "It was definitely a nice change. Shoulder notwithstanding."

"I am not reckless!" He protested, and then thought to add. "And for the record, I don't think you're boring."

She smiled at him in silent thanks, finishing her bite of food before she responded.

"I guess I was just feeling ... I don't know." She paused, sighing heavily. He watched her debate the merits of continuing. She looked unsure and disappointed and introspective. He recognized that look, and suddenly he sensed that this was it: the conversation they'd been avoiding and skirting and repressing and needing for so long.

"You can talk to me, Mac." He placed his hand over hers.

She studied his face for a moment before turning her attention to the food on her plate with another deep sigh.

"The whole thing with ... with Mic ..." She trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. She seemed so unmoored. He thought he finally understood at least in part what she'd been thinking when she'd walked into his office before lunch.

"I feel like I'd invested so much of, well, myself into the relationship. And it was so much work. I don't know. I thought it'd be easier to build that with him." She sounded wistful and sad, and in that moment Harm was ready to go three rounds with Brumby.

"And then I thought it'd be easier to get over it, because if it took that much effort maybe I didn't really want it?" She trailed off with an impatient huff. "I don't know. This isn't making much 

sense. And it all has me feeling very ... foolish." She shrugged, drawing idle patterns on her plate with a chopstick. "I wanted to break free of all that..."

He didn't know what to say to her without colouring his response with his own distaste for Brumby and her relationship with him, or revealing the mess of emotion he couldn't even begin to untangle at the thought of his inability to work things out with Mac after Brumby left.

"I thought you'd figured all that out during your TAD to the Guadalcanal?" He tried not to wince at how that came out sounding. So much for not colouring his comments. But he was just fed-up with pretending her actions hadn't hurt him.

"Harm." She pulled her hand out from under his, and placed it on his arm. The intensity with which she was looking at him stilled his heart. "I needed to do that, to get away, to get my head on straight without any pressure, without having to worry about people watching my every move, trying to figure out what had happened. I swear it was like being in a fishbowl here. It ..." Her voice softened as she hesitated. "It wasn't you, not exclusively."

Not exclusively. What did that mean? His confusion must have shown on his face, because suddenly she looked just a bit uncomfortable.

"I mean ... I guess..." She sighed, and gave a short awkward laugh. "I guess I should stop now if I want to keep up my end of us starting at the beginning."

"Or maybe starting at the beginning was a bit ... ambitious." He offered tentatively. It occurred to him after reversing roles – or trying to – with Mac, that maybe she had sincerely been fed-up of his doggedness in wanting to talk to her. He could admit that he sometimes tended to be a bit single-minded when it came to certain things. But for the life of him, he didn't know how to act otherwise.

She looked away, removing her hand from his arm.

"Well, we are both overachievers." She pushed the food around her plate with her chopsticks, "This chicken really is good. Did you try it?" She was trying to change the subject, her clumsy discomfiture evident.

"Mac." He tried to get her attention, even as he tried to figure out what to say once he had it. He may not know how to act differently, but he could try.

She turned to face him. The quiet regret in her eyes was plain to see.

"I didn't ..." He stopped himself, and tried not to make it sound like he was either making a demand or claiming an expectation. "If you want to, uh, we could, you know, leap forward a bit." He watched her carefully for a reaction, but she only looked confused.

He tried to clarify. "We are overachievers – you said it yourself – and who says you being the reckless one and me the patient one has to be a one day affair ..." He trailed off, wondering if she was ready to try putting a name and face to the thing between them, "Who knows, it could be one that lasts a lifetime..."

Her expression transformed as his words sunk in. He could see the same questions take shape in her eyes, see the same honesty emerge that he'd only caught glimpses of at her engagement party all those months ago.

They looked at each other for one long moment, anticipation and doubt coalescing around them, solidifying until neither could move, neither could look away.

Slowly, she leaned forward to kiss him, and he froze, unable to breathe, his eyes riveted on hers. This was so unexpected. This was just too good to be true. Were hallucinations a side effect of rabies shots? He hoped not. His gaze dropped to her lips.

To Harm's utter frustration, Mac stopped abruptly when she just was a hair's breadth away. He could have measured the distance between them in heartbeats. As it was, he was sure his heart had stopped exactly when she had. He looked up from her lips to her eyes in question. Why was she hesitating...

"Are you sure we're not stepping way out of character?" She whispered. He caught the hesitancy behind her words, and realized she was as unsure about this as he was eager.

He slid his hand behind her neck, and drew her closer to him, not wanting this moment to escape them.

"Actually, I think I'm just getting the hang of it." He looked at her, hiding nothing.

She searched his eyes, and then broke into a smile, one of her slow sweet ones. He couldn't help mirroring her expression as he closed the distance separating them, bringing his lips to hers in a kiss.

Finally.

His last thought before abandoning reason in favour of losing himself in her, was that maybe he could learn a thing or two from stepping out of character. Spontaneity was great, but there was a hell of a lot to be said about being patient.

--

end


End file.
